


Wild Flower Honey

by hope (sapphicks)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 17:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicks/pseuds/hope
Summary: Oh, how I long for your touch, how I crave the taste of your sweet honeydew kisses.





	Wild Flower Honey

**Author's Note:**

> strongly reccomend listening to gymnopédie no. 1 while reading! it really sets the mood 💕 (ill link it below)

[gymnopédie no. 1](https://youtu.be/S-Xm7s9eGxU)

 

Apple pies, golden skies, and butterflies were all things that reminded Kiyoko of her.

The way her shaking hands would take hers and hold them tight, the way her eyes, the color of Kiyoko's whole world, sugary and soft, would shine while they gazed into her own was her favorite part of every day. The sun didn't rise until Hitoka ran her hands through her hair and told her how much she loved her; Hitoka's groggy morning voice always was Kiyoko's favorite song.

Kiyoko always thought of Hitoka when summers wind danced with the windchimes hanging on the front porch, silver and shinning in afternoons light; the color of sun kissing their cheeks as they sang a song that blew away in the breeze.

 

_**-** _

 

The pink roses Hitoka loved sat in a vase on their bedroom table, freshly watered every morning and night, even if all their petals had fallen on the wooden surface below - browned and curled around themselves. Those flowers were the first thing Kiyoko saw each day, as well as the last before she slept. It only hurt a little bit to see the dead flowers, their sweet smell long gone; she didn't mind.

Hitoka's smell had long faded from the linen sheets and pillow cases, but that didn't stop Kiyoko from burying her face in the mattress on the empty side of the bed; the roses wilted stems watching pitifully from where they drooped over the vases edge.

 

_**-** _

 

In the kitchen was the smell of burnt butter and sour green apples. Flour was smeared on the countertops and sugar was spilt on the floor. No matter how much Kiyoko tried, no matter how many pies she ruined, she couldn't make them like Hitoka used to. She didn't have all the love to pour into them, didn't have the touch of Hitoka's cold hands to kneed the dough. It never tasted the same without the lop-sided heart shapes burnt on top.

Kiyoko could only hope that she could one day find it in her heart to make a pie as good as Hitoka could; though she doubted it. There was nothing quite like that apple pie; no one quite like the girl that made it.

 

_**-** _

 

On the bathroom mirror was a pink sticky note that read "good morning, you'll do so well today!", in neat handwriting with a few smiley faces dotted around the words. Hitoka's toothbrush still sat in the cup by the sinks, beside her hairbrush and strawberry flavored chapstick, tinted Kiyoko's favorite shade of red.

 

Vermilion was a color hard to pull off, but Hitoka always looked so good in it; flushed cheeks and pretty lips pairing perfectly with her old sun dress, a bit too long when she wore it but that was okay. her blonde hair down, brushing the tops of her bare shoulders was a sight Kiyoko would never forget.

 

_**-** _

 

Hitoka's dirty garden shoes still waited by the front door, discarded along with the few papers that had fallen from the table that sat overflowing beside them. There was a small trowel and washcloth there as well, a few dandelions laid limp, smothered in the now dry and stiff material.

Kiyoko is still walking through the house, aimlessly, lost within her own home; just like the day before, and the one before that, and the one before that, as well. The room temperature glass of sweet tea that's still on the living room table is a week old, but Kiyoko couldn't bring herself to throw it out; the red stain on the edge of the cup was too much for her to look at, too much for her to bare. So she left it alone.

 

_**-** _

 

Sometimes she'd spray herself with Hitoka's perfume, a light, floral scent that was incomplete when on anything but Hitoka's skin. It sparkled and gleamed in the moons light cascading through the windows; Kiyoko couldn't bring herself away from her memories for too long. If she closed her eyes, the humid summer wind almost mirrored Hitoka's hand on her cheek, the light of the night sky was almost a replicate of her natural glow.

Right. Even on a clear night like this, as the fireflies waltzed in the air and all the stars in the galaxy shined brightly in the sky, as the moon smiled down on this corner of the earth, it couldn't even begin to compare to the feeling of Hitoka hugging her close, the feelings Hitoka gave her in the form of heartfelt words and quiet giggles.

 

_**-** _

 

The rain wasn't cold. Rather, it was like lava on Kiyoko's skin as she stood, barefoot in the tall grass that brushed against her shins. Her toes sunk into the mud, tiny rocks surfacing as earthworms wiggled on the stepping stones leading to the backdoor of their small home.

Watching rainstorms wasn't the same anymore. When lightening struck and when thunder clapped there was nobody to hug onto her tight, nobody to bury their head into her neck as they laughed because it was her own idea in the first place, to stand out in the midst of a tropical storm. There wasn't anybody to lean down and kiss, because it's just so cheesy and perfect and Kiyoko had always wanted to kiss in the rain; on Hitoka's soft lips a whisper of strawberries and the sweetest tea, as well as a promise of a love like gloaming.

 

**_-_ **

 

Showers are no longer something she looks forward to. There's nobody to share them with, nobody to wash her hair or to rub her shoulders, nobody to trail kisses from her jawline to her cheek. The cold water rushed over Kiyoko's skin as she stood, empty and alone.

The sticky note fell into the sink; now soggy and torn, ink running together in streams of electric blue because of the small puddles that resides there.

Hot tears ran down her porcelain cheeks, streaking Kiyoko's skin with a sadness that she won't ever overcome. Her arms are limp at her sides, body aching with the phantom touches of soft hands as the feeling of being fragmentary set into her bones.

 

_**-** _

 

There is nothing left in this house; only the remnants of a girl long gone, and the lover she left behind, who's merely a ghost with flesh and bone.


End file.
